The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

All of Arnold's resentment had flown right out the window the moment he saw Asher.

Asher said, "You must've been worn out over the past few days. You haven't eaten yet, right?"

He lifted the plastic bag in his hand, waving it in front of Arnold. "I remember you saying you don't eat carbs, but if you're feeling pressured or exhausted, you would reward yourself with some fried chicken. I bought fried chicken for you. I'm not sure which flavor you like, so I bought a few."

Arnold's throat bobbed, salivating with anticipation.

In the end, he still let the man in.

However, Arnold maintained a little of his pride and gave Asher a cold face, sitting on the chair indifferently as he tried hard not to look at the handsome man.

"As a doctor, saving lives is my duty. Even if it's not Chairman Thompson, I'll still do my best. You don't need to be so polite."

"Are you mad?" Ignoring his indifference, Asher asked softly instead.

Arnold's eyelashes fluttered. "Who... Who's mad?"

not mad, why

heart was in knots, his face flushed, and he subconsciously glanced at the mirror

his lips were tightly pursed, and his

and opened the boxes, placing them in front of Arnold. He

was hoarse, carrying a hint of

a beat, and he

"It's just that my family is here, and my father is sick. I am the eldest

grabbed a fried chicken and took a

he stared at him. "Eat more. You've lost

bring ketchup next time. My favorite is still

in a

"Yes." Asher nodded seriously.

Asher's eyes. "Then

glinted with charm, drawing Arnold in without his